things to provoke the desecration of his tomb, the savaging of his body."
He couldn't let the boy dwell on such anathema. "All has been put right, divine one." He drew closer to the king, who gave him a look of desperation.
"They won't let me return to Thebes for the reburial. Ay says I must remain here to draw everyone's attention."
"It's the only way, majesty. You trust Maya. If he can manage the royal treasury, he can arrange for thy majesty's brother and his family to be concealed in the Valley of Kings, where no one will disturb them again."
Tutankhamun sighed again. "Of course."
"And only thy majesty can summon the priests of Amun from Thebes to Memphis."
A grin brightened the king's solemn features. "The high priest was so furious, he was shaking when he arrived at court. He wanted to chastise me, and he might have dared if I hadn't told him I needed his advice about the Hittites."
At the mention of the Hittites, the king's smile vanished. "He never kisses my foot!"
"Majesty?"
"Mugallu. He pretends. He kneels and bows over my foot, but he never touches me. I give him an honor I grant to few emissaries, and he never kisses my foot. He didn't this time."
"Ah," Meren said. "And having studied to arouse thy majesty's just wrath, he succeeded. Thus provoking a quarrel between his experienced master and pharaoh, who is not yet fifteen."
Tutankhamun slammed his cup down on the table. "I know, I know." He paced back and forth, then stopped and grinned at Meren. "I shall tell him I'm sorry."
"Majesty?" Meren had never heard a living god even pronounce the word "sorry." He furrowed his brow, trying to imagine such a thing, and failed.
The king laughed. "Don't look so aghast. I'll send word that I regret that his barbaric rudeness provoked me to harshness."
"Ah." Relief smoothed Meren's brow. "I was about to counsel the golden one to refrain from such an unprecedented action."
"But none of this is what I wished to talk about. Come with me to the pavilion."
The king sat on a couch the frame of which had been fashioned as a lion. The gilded wood was surmounted by cushions in the same colors used in the pavilion. Tutankhamun indicated a place on the floor beside the couch, and Karoya put a cushion there for Meren. The guard served plum wine and
shat
cakes seasoned with tigernuts and sweetened with honey and dates.
Pharaoh waited until Meren was in the middle of a sip of wine to speak. "You're avoiding reading the desert patrol reports so that you won't find bandits that need hunting."
Meren paused with wine in his mouth. He glanced up at the king. Deceptively, the boy's cheeks still held the roundness of childhood. His mouth was a replica of the full lips and downward-pointing corners of Queen Tiye's. The richness of eyes and mouth, the oversize, puppylike hands and feet, created an impression of youthful vulnerability. Sometimes Meren forgot that Tutankhamun came from a line of warriors, conquerors, and masters of strategy. He swallowed his wine.
"How did the divine one know?" Meren asked lightly.
"After you promised to take me on a raid to gain battle experience, I bethought myself of how you might wish to delay in hopes I'd forget. Then I sent inquiries to the chief of royal messengers, who confirmed my suspicions. So I dispatched members of my war band to the villages where there has been trouble in the past. Word of any marauding will come directly to me."
Meren slid to his knees and bowed, touching his forehead to the floor. "Thy majesty has surpassed me in wisdom and craft. I await thy discipline, O Horus, Strong-Bull-arisen-in-Thebes, Gold Horus, Mighty-in-strength, Majestic-in-appearance, Lord of the Two Lands—"
"Meren, be quiet and sit up."
"Yes, majesty."
"Do you think it easy to balance between childhood and manhood, apprenticeship and kingship? You, Ay, Maya, and General Horemheb must stop protecting me. I can't learn to lead my armies from this pavilion."
"I know, majesty. And thy majesty
He couldn't let the boy dwell on such anathema. "All has been put right, divine one." He drew closer to the king, who gave him a look of desperation.
"They won't let me return to Thebes for the reburial. Ay says I must remain here to draw everyone's attention."
"It's the only way, majesty. You trust Maya. If he can manage the royal treasury, he can arrange for thy majesty's brother and his family to be concealed in the Valley of Kings, where no one will disturb them again."
Tutankhamun sighed again. "Of course."
"And only thy majesty can summon the priests of Amun from Thebes to Memphis."
A grin brightened the king's solemn features. "The high priest was so furious, he was shaking when he arrived at court. He wanted to chastise me, and he might have dared if I hadn't told him I needed his advice about the Hittites."
At the mention of the Hittites, the king's smile vanished. "He never kisses my foot!"
"Majesty?"
"Mugallu. He pretends. He kneels and bows over my foot, but he never touches me. I give him an honor I grant to few emissaries, and he never kisses my foot. He didn't this time."
"Ah," Meren said. "And having studied to arouse thy majesty's just wrath, he succeeded. Thus provoking a quarrel between his experienced master and pharaoh, who is not yet fifteen."
Tutankhamun slammed his cup down on the table. "I know, I know." He paced back and forth, then stopped and grinned at Meren. "I shall tell him I'm sorry."
"Majesty?" Meren had never heard a living god even pronounce the word "sorry." He furrowed his brow, trying to imagine such a thing, and failed.
The king laughed. "Don't look so aghast. I'll send word that I regret that his barbaric rudeness provoked me to harshness."
"Ah." Relief smoothed Meren's brow. "I was about to counsel the golden one to refrain from such an unprecedented action."
"But none of this is what I wished to talk about. Come with me to the pavilion."
The king sat on a couch the frame of which had been fashioned as a lion. The gilded wood was surmounted by cushions in the same colors used in the pavilion. Tutankhamun indicated a place on the floor beside the couch, and Karoya put a cushion there for Meren. The guard served plum wine and
shat
cakes seasoned with tigernuts and sweetened with honey and dates.
Pharaoh waited until Meren was in the middle of a sip of wine to speak. "You're avoiding reading the desert patrol reports so that you won't find bandits that need hunting."
Meren paused with wine in his mouth. He glanced up at the king. Deceptively, the boy's cheeks still held the roundness of childhood. His mouth was a replica of the full lips and downward-pointing corners of Queen Tiye's. The richness of eyes and mouth, the oversize, puppylike hands and feet, created an impression of youthful vulnerability. Sometimes Meren forgot that Tutankhamun came from a line of warriors, conquerors, and masters of strategy. He swallowed his wine.
"How did the divine one know?" Meren asked lightly.
"After you promised to take me on a raid to gain battle experience, I bethought myself of how you might wish to delay in hopes I'd forget. Then I sent inquiries to the chief of royal messengers, who confirmed my suspicions. So I dispatched members of my war band to the villages where there has been trouble in the past. Word of any marauding will come directly to me."
Meren slid to his knees and bowed, touching his forehead to the floor. "Thy majesty has surpassed me in wisdom and craft. I await thy discipline, O Horus, Strong-Bull-arisen-in-Thebes, Gold Horus, Mighty-in-strength, Majestic-in-appearance, Lord of the Two Lands—"
"Meren, be quiet and sit up."
"Yes, majesty."
"Do you think it easy to balance between childhood and manhood, apprenticeship and kingship? You, Ay, Maya, and General Horemheb must stop protecting me. I can't learn to lead my armies from this pavilion."
"I know, majesty. And thy majesty
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